


Final Confrontation

by theshalashaska



Series: Every Thought is of You [3]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, MGS3, No direction, short perspectives of ocelot, this is the theme of the series then i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:12:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshalashaska/pseuds/theshalashaska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn't dead, and they'd have their fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! There's another. Kinda stopped with the previously planned one and then didn't think I'd add anymore for awhile. Last night, this pops into my head, and I scratched it out quickly before bed so I could type it now. I'm sorry these are all so short, maybe one day I'll actually finish something longer.

“Dammit!”

He holds the guns between clenched fingers at his sides, body trembling with a rage yet unleashed. _He might be dead._ His lip curls at the thought. Falling into such a crevice could easily break a man's neck. He holsters his guns, eyes still locked on the void, and absently begins to fondle the bullet round his neck.

“He's not  _dead_ ,” Ocelot spits at the ground. “Not yet.”

He longs for the action again, revels in the memory of bullets passing bullets, a lethal breath in their wake. That he should hear words whip from the man's tongue once more, perhaps even up close. A chance to use his magic bullet. Or a fist fight, the feel of muscle rippling beneath muscle.

Were it not for that idiot and his bees, the battle could've seen its conclusion here, at Bolshaya Past. But the thought of a physical fight intrigues him enough to sate the beast in his belly awhile longer. Maybe things can still work out the way he wishes; he could learn the man's name, and with it—

“Majour.”

He turns a quick and frightening glare upon the intruder. One of his men, realising the mistake a moment too late. He takes a half step backward and bows his head in submission. Ocelot sneers at him. The hand caressing the chain falls back to his side.

“We move back to base. I don't need my unit any more useless by the dead. “

Below, he imagines Snake moving ever closer to their final confrontation. 

 


End file.
